From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 704: When He Said No (part two)

Darcy’s opposition came across as a surprise.

The word no had not only interrupted the approval in the room, it had shattered the fragile warmth that had just begun to settle over them. A moment ago, there had been relief, even happiness. Now the air felt sharp, brittle, like glass stretched too thin.

Clyde met those dark eyes head-on. There was no avoidance, no attempt to soften the confrontation. "And the reason?"

His voice broke the tranquillity in the room. It was calm, but it carried weight. The question was not casual curiosity. It was a challenge, direct and steady.

Elina spoke before anyone else could. "Dear, why would you say that?" Her brows knit together, confusion and worry clouding her gentle features.

"Yeah, I thought you were okay with it way before..." Jacob mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His gaze flicked between Darcy and Clyde. "You knew their relationship from the start, didn’t you? So why?" There was no accusation in his tone, only bafflement. He had seen the quiet understanding between Clyde and Micah. He had thought Darcy had seen it too.

Darcy stepped forward, his eyes fixed solely on Clyde. His jaw was tight, shoulders squared, fingers trembling faintly at his sides. "You still have not sorted it out. Have you? You are just rushing into this because you feel threatened."

The words landed heavily.

Clyde pursed his lips. He knew exactly what Darcy was pointing out. There was no confusion in his expression, only acknowledgement. "His attitude said enough. He doesn’t want to go after them."

"Really?" Darcy’s voice sharpened, edged with something close to fury. "Or are you just being a coward? Worried he softened toward them?" His eyes flashed. "Keep acting like this and see if it doesn’t happen again! I promise you, they won’t stop. They never had, and never will. They are obsessed!"

Clyde clenched his fists, expression grim. The veins at his temples stood out slightly, but he did not raise his voice. The restraint in him was visible, hard-earned.

The Ramsy family gaped at Darcy, flabbergasted beyond measure. Elina stood up fully now, her hands trembling. "Sweetheart, what are you saying?" Her voice shook. She had heard fragments about the incident, whispers of suspicion, but nothing like this. Darcy’s words hinted at something deeper, darker.

Darcy finally looked at them. His anger softened just a fraction when his gaze met Elina’s worried eyes. "Mum, you know I never would hurt Micah. I am not just spouting nonsense." His voice lowered, but it did not lose its conviction.

"But..." Elina hesitated. They all had heard about the involvement of those four men in Micah’s accident. Rumours had circulated. Motives had been speculated. But in the end, there had been no concrete evidence. No confession. No proof strong enough to act upon. Darcy, however, was speaking as if certainty lived in his bones.

Albert Ramsy, who had remained silent thus far, adjusted his posture behind the desk. His aged eyes were sharp despite the fatigue lining his face. "We all can agree that Mr Du Pont has a decent character with great patience in caring for Micah. My grandson is a troublemaker indeed but beneath it, there is a big heart full of kindness. Anyone who can look past his exterior and see his true self as we did, it means he has what it takes to be part of this family." His tone was calm, steady as an anchor. "So, Darcy, explain your reasons clearly. Because I can see your refusal is not based on that."

The room quieted again.

Darcy glanced at Clyde, then at the others. Conflict flickered across his face. "Grandfather, this matter is concerning Micah. If he wishes to tell you then I would explain. But right now..." His voice trailed off.

He shot a helpless look at them. The meaning was obvious. That was Micah’s secret. He did not have permission to talk about it freely. The weight of that unspoken truth pressed against his ribs. He had carried it for so long that sometimes it felt heavier than his own body.

Albert fell into thought. His fingers tapped once against the polished wood before going still. He glanced at Clyde’s grim expression and then at Darcy’s resolved one. Both young men stood firm, but for different reasons. "It seems this matter involves the younger generation. I will not meddle. You youngsters can resolve it among yourselves." His gaze shifted back to Clyde. "My wife had already approved of you. So from me, there is no objection. But for an engagement party or a wedding, I will be grateful if you hold it for a bit longer."

Clyde nodded seriously, his eyes softening. "I understand."

Albert rose slowly and walked toward the door with the cane, the faint tap against the wooden floor echoing in the silent room. "If you excuse me, I’ll return to my room. This poor body has reached its limit."

The rest watched his bent back in sadness as he left the room. Age and grief had curved his spine, but not his dignity. The door closed quietly behind him.

Jacob also stood up and grabbed Elina’s hand. His grip was gentle but firm. "Son, I’ll leave it in your hands. I am sure you have the best interests of Micah in your heart." He looked at Darcy meaningfully, then at Clyde.

He pushed Elina toward the door despite her resistance. "Honey, let’s go. Our guests are alone. It’s not polite." Elina glanced back once, worry written all over her face, before allowing herself to be led out.

The door was closed. Silence returned, but this time it was thick and oppressive.

Darcy met Clyde’s eyes without flinching. "So?"

Clyde pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly, as if gathering patience from somewhere deep inside. "I have not brought it up with Micah."

"Duh! I know that!" Darcy snapped, frustration bursting out of him. "I kept my promise until now. But after what happened... I am sorry. I can’t anymore." His voice rose, raw and unfiltered. "I want revenge. I can’t be at peace with how much audacity they have shown until now. The nerve of them showing up, flaunting their disgusting faces in front of Micah and me! They have to pay for their mistakes, their crimes!"

His chest heaved. His hands shook openly now.

Clyde took a deep breath. "Fine. Go ahead and tell him. Tell him you remember everything. And see what happens." His tone turned firm, unyielding. "I can assure you he’ll do exactly what he did before, like in our first life. The guilt would eat him alive until he sacrificed himself for you again. Is that what you want?"

The words hit like a slap.

Darcy’s lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Memories flickered in his mind, painful, vivid, unbearable. He clenched his jaw. "Who said anything about pointing fingers? Or blaming who was at fault?" he defended himself, though his voice lacked its earlier force.

"You are going down that road again," Clyde said quietly. There was no anger now, only warning. "I have talked about those four with him before. He stated his stance clearly. He didn’t want anything to do with them. I will deal with them in my way. Slowly. Silently. There is no need for you to get involved."

"No!" Darcy’s shout echoed off the walls. "Then what should I do with this resentment?" His voice cracked on the last word. It was no longer just anger. It was pain. Helplessness.

Clyde looked at him for a long moment. "Let it go. It takes time. But he will never want you dragged into this again. At least I know it that much." His gaze softened slightly. "He chose you once over himself. Don’t make him choose again."

Darcy’s breathing grew uneven.

Clyde walked toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. "I’m going ahead with proposing. You can be trapped in a dark place for the rest of your life or you can take a step and move forward." He glanced back, eyes steady. "And a little advice... revenge is best served when it’s cold. You have a lot of time to go after them. If my method doesn’t work, you can try yours then."

The door was closed, leaving Darcy alone in that room. As if the door to light had been shut.

The quiet that followed was suffocating.

Darcy stood motionless for several seconds, staring at the wooden surface of the desk as if it might offer answers. His pulse thudded loudly in his ears. Clyde’s words replayed relentlessly.

He would sacrifice himself for you.

That was the fear. That was always the fear.

Darcy looked at the ground and felt anger rising again, hot and uncontrollable. Why was he denied seeking revenge? Why did protecting Micah mean swallowing his own fury? He knew Clyde was right. He hated that he was right. It hurt more than he could describe.

In his frustration, he kicked the desk hard. The impact sent a sharp jolt up his leg. A small porcelain vase trembled at the edge before tumbling to the ground.

It shattered upon impact.

The sound was violent in the otherwise silent study. Shards scattered across the polished floor, fragments catching the lamplight.

Darcy stared at the broken pieces, chest rising and falling rapidly. The shattered porcelain reflected his distorted image back at him: fractured, jagged, incomplete.

His eyes turned resentful. Not just toward those who had hurt Micah. Not just toward the men who walked freely without consequence. But toward himself.

Because deep down, beneath the anger and the thirst for revenge, he knew the truth. If Micah ever found out everything... he would choose sacrifice again.

And Darcy was not sure he was strong enough to watch that happen one more time.